


Warmth Amidst Frigid Weather

by gaytoxe



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Confession, Fluff, M/M, Oumota Weekend 2019, Winter, prompt: pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-29
Updated: 2019-11-29
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:40:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21604663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gaytoxe/pseuds/gaytoxe
Summary: “The way you stare at me?” Ouma brings up. “You’re always looking at me with those eyes.” He takes a step towards him, points right at him, at his warm irises that gaze right into his. “Those right there. You’re doing it right now, Momota-chan.”Momota averts his gaze, the tips of his ears flushing red. Sure, maybe he does stare at him, (a little too longingly), and maybe he does enjoy the sound of his laughter and the way his eyes shine with stars in the sunlight. Maybe he does like the way his lip curls when he smiles; maybe he does want to gently run his fingers through his hair just once and chase after him in the halls everyday. He wants to keep running beside him, racing to the end of the hall or across the street, the issue of recklessness barely crossing their minds until their legs give out.Momota resists the urge to avert his gaze, instead focusing his eyes on the gentle white puffs that escape Ouma’s lips.“Weeeeell?” Ouma gazes up at him. “That face just makes you look ten times more guilty.”
Relationships: Momota Kaito/Oma Kokichi
Comments: 9
Kudos: 99





	Warmth Amidst Frigid Weather

There’s only one Ouma Kokichi in Momota’s life. A liar; the one always teasing the hell out of him. The one Momota declared himself his rival.

But it’s different with him, the way they fight.

There’s a way Ouma’s shit-eating grin and his words challenge him, encouraging him to fight; to take the bait and chase after him until they’re breathless, laughing from how the shock of exhilaration travels through their bodies. And Momota knows he feels the same way because of the glint in his eyes. It sparkles, brighter than any star he’s ever seen, and their breaths sync together, knowing they’re making the same kind of face and experiencing the same kind of energy rushing through every inch of their skin, every nerve in their bodies shocking with life by just being in the other’s vicinity.

And he wants to run again and again, to feel that same feeling. But he doesn’t want to run just to run. He wants to run because Ouma is ahead of him, cutting corners and laughing.

There’s something about his laugh. The sound, the context, everything about it dances around Momota’s heart like nothing else does. And he likes it.

-

Momota watches his eyes follow the frosty rain that cascades outside, and the droplets reflect delicately in his lilac eyes, chin propped up by his hand with a bored expression on his face. The warmth of the café envelops his body, gentle light shining on the edges of the table, contrasting the gloomy atmosphere outside.

He stares for an eternity’s worth while, his heart protruding from his chest from how fixated his eyes are on him.

“I didn’t know Momota-chan enjoyed staring at me,” Ouma snickers, and Momota blinks.

“Like hell I do,” he tries, but there’s a tiny lump in his throat that he swallows dryly to hide.

“This must be the beginning of a love crusade!” Ouma announces, and Momota swears he can spot stars in the oceans of lilac in his eyes. “When are you gonna confess to me? Now? Under a cherry tree? How romantic of you.”

“I told you, it’s not like that! I was looking behind you—“ Momota pauses to find and excuse— “—at the plants.”

“Of course,” Ouma drawls, leaning back against his seat. “Falling for a plant just to spite me? I can’t believe you!” He sniffles, crocodile tears forming at the edges of his eyes. “Just what I’d expect from you, Momota-chan. Do you know how this makes me feel?”

“Oh fuck off,” Momota scoffs, flicking his straw wrapper at him as Ouma laughs.

He knows it’s a terrible excuse, but there’s something about Ouma’s laugh that makes his chest tighten just a little, makes his lips curl up ever so slightly in a frustrated but elated smile.

And he’s captured in that moment once again, heart sticking out just a little longer until he shoves it back in his body despite sitting in that eternity, the tiny thought that he’d like to hear that laugh again settling in his head.

-

“It’s pretty obvious, Momota-chan.”

“Like I said, I don’t know what you’re talking about!” Momota tries to protest, but he knows it’s a lie as soon as the words vibrate against his vocal cords. He huffs, and a puff of white escapes his lips, the bitterness of the weather sending chills up his spine despite the jacket that rests on his shoulders. The sun slowly lowers itself behind the trees, tinges of purple, orange and red masterfully painted across the canvas of the sky, lighting up Ouma’s face in a way that Momota doesn’t see very often.

“It’s super obvious.” Ouma grins, and Momota notices the same way his lip curls up slightly when he smiles. Looking at it, it almost looks cute, the way his smile frames his face. But he doesn’t pay attention to those things.

He swallows a lump in this throat. “Like hell it is.”

“The way you stare at me?” Ouma brings up. “You’re always looking at me with those eyes.” He takes a step towards him, points right at him, at his warm irises that gaze right into his. “Those right there. You’re doing it right now, Momota-chan.”

Momota averts his gaze, the tips of his ears flushing red. Sure, maybe he does stare at him, (a little too longingly), and maybe he does enjoy the sound of his laughter and the way his eyes shine with stars in the sunlight. Maybe he does like the way his lip curls when he smiles; maybe he does want to gently run his fingers through his hair just once and chase after him in the halls everyday. He wants to keep running beside him, racing to the end of the hall or across the street, the issue of recklessness barely crossing their minds until their legs give out.

Momota resists the urge to avert his gaze, instead focusing his eyes on the gentle white puffs that escape Ouma’s lips.

“Weeeeell?” Ouma gazes up at him. “That face just makes you look ten times more guilty.”

His face increases in temperature and he thinks and thinks, stares at the curl in Ouma’s smile and the sparkles he’s never seen so bright and shining in his life in his lilac eyes. And Momota considers the way Ouma stares at him, the spark that lights when their eyes meet. How they almost start laughing after their arguments, barely taking them seriously at times. His laugh is contagious and rings in Momota’s ears like a song stuck in his head that he never wants to stop, playing it on repeat until he can hear it again for real the next day.

With a heart beating a million miles an hour, Momota swallows the lump in his throat, trying to keep his cool. His heart is a mess, melting and pulsing, and his stomach fills with frantic butterflies, fluttering around and refusing to let go of all the moments he’s ever thought about him and how he loves everything about him from his eyes and his grin to his laugh and his voice.

“Well—“ the words sputter out of his mouth before he can think, cheeks bursting a cherry red that flushes the tips of his ears at his own thoughts— “—maybe I wanted you to think I loved you!”

Ouma snorts.

“Is that it? Then what’s with all those excuses on staring at plants and all those times you’ve tried to act like you weren’t focusing all your attention on me?” he questions, grin firm on his face even though Momota can spot some kind of uncertainty in his eyes that makes him want to think Ouma doesn’t want it to be real but desires it so badly at the same time he’s boring into his eyes.

“That’s—“ Momota averts his gaze— “—whatever! What’re you planning on getting out of this, Ouma?”

“What do you think?”

Momota pauses and raises a hand before it slaps him in the face. The way he stares at him and how it’s the same feeling they have embedded in their hearts.

“Momota-chan’s really an idiot,” Ouma sighs out, placing his hands behind his head and giving him a side glance.

“The— the way you look at me is weird, too,” Momota tells him finally, hand clenching into a fist. “You… you stare at me too. And when we run, you always give me this kind of look. And I know it’s not just in my head ‘cause my heart starts beating faster, and it’s like you know exactly how I feel.”

Ouma stares at him in silence, eyes ever so slightly shining in the way that Momota started noticing ever since he finally paid attention to those things.

Because he loves him. And Momota knows that those shared moments aren’t just things that are forgotten between them.

His eyes soften and Momota ends up smiling, remembering all the times he’s ever thought about the way he thinks about Ouma. It’s now or never to him, even though he knows he probably won’t let him get away with this much without admitting how he feels.

“There’s something about you, Kokichi, that I just can’t get over. It’s keeps my heart on a sprint, and I don’t know how to get over it. I like it. And there’s lots of other things I like about you..” he trails off. “My head is so full of you I can’t get over it.”

Ouma’s lilac irises shine in a way Momota has never seen before, and his words get caught in his throat trying to say it all.

“I— well, what I’m tryna say, is—“ Momota clenches at his chest, closing his eyes for a few moments to settle those three words in his mind, eyes fluttering open once more— “I love you.”

“I love you too.” The words ring in Momota’s ears and echo over and over, and he can’t help but smile like an idiot, face still cherry red and with his entire body growing in sync with his quickly beating heart. He almost doesn’t feel the frigid air nipping at his face.

Just as if following a melody, they concurrently step towards each other with Ouma’s hand resting on his chest, and Momota swears he can feel his heartbeat quicken from his touch. His hand instinctively rests on his waist, and Ouma leans up on his tiptoes, taking Momota’s hand in his.

His lips feel so soft and rewarding that Momota doesn’t want to pull away; it’s the softest feeling he’s ever felt in his entire life, and when they disconnect, he’s staring down at him, the warmth of his hands traveling throughout his whole body in the cold.

Amidst the frost that envelops his cheeks down to his feet, Momota doesn’t feel it even a little.

**Author's Note:**

> i love being able to write my inner hopeless romantic, so i hope this was pining enough, lol. since it's wintertime, i figured i'd try to do something related at least. besides, the contrast of warm and cold is always something i've loved; gives me comfort. either way, i hope you enjoyed! i'll probably miss the days on the other prompts, but i'll do my best! school is a pain so when i'm actually able to write it's a blessing in it of itself. in any case, i had lots of fun writing this, so i say it's worth it if i don't end up making the other deadlines!


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